The hole in the ground matched the hole in his chest. Taking up the room where his heart used to be, pushing his lungs to the side in an effort to consume him fully. He guessed that this is what drowning felt like, a building pressure in his lungs, stopping his ability to do anything but grasp around blindly for something to bring him back to the present.
He wasn’t sure he could be brought back again. How could he exist in this world when his own world, his everything, was right there, pale and beautiful as ever in her coffin?
There was already a hole in the soil dug out for her, right on the edge of the cemetery, shaded by a rotting tree. It wasn’t fair, how someone who was the stars, the sun and the moon itself was treated so cruelly by fate, left to waste in a place so dull and unloved.
He snapped out of his thoughts so suddenly he almost fell out of his seat as a hand came to rest on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry James. I can’t believe this has happened. It all seems to be out of a dream doesn’t it?” A somber voice spoke.
“A nightmare, not a dream Mr. Porter.” He snapped. James Whitefield never snapped. It was one of his defining traits that others were always charmed by. But he just couldn’t help it, his world was aflame and there was nothing he could do. Mr. Porter seemed like he expected this though, and wasn’t fazed as he took the seat beside him.
“I understand.”
“No. No, you don’t. She’s gone, William. She’s gone and I don’t know what to do with myself.” William Porter looked at him sympathetically, as one usually does with someone on the verge of a great something, even if in the moment William Porter didn’t know how gruesome this great something was. He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and gently opened James’s clenched fists to put it in his palm.
“Your heart is hurting, and I can’t say it’ll ever stop. I know you wish you could have done something to prevent her murder-” James flinched. “But you’re not responsible for it. That horrible monster is to blame and he is going to spend the rest of his life in jail for hurting Liliana. Life is going to keep going and it will never be the same but Liliana would have wanted you to keep living it freely and openly, just like she does-did.”
“But how can I not worry, I need to keep her safe!”
“Keep her safe here.” He placed a caring hand on the grieving man’s chest and looked up at him with watery eyes. “There is no place safer than your heart, where she has been before and where she will stay with you as long as you live.”
His heart. How could he be so stupid, of course, his heart! The safest place of them all. He needed to keep her with him, he needed to keep her safe. This was the best way to do it. Oh Mr. Porter, what a genius man! He knew what he needed to do.
He needed his wife’s body back.
Night had fallen on the graveyard, the pale moonlight dancing in the leaves was the only sign of life. He sat hunched beside a fresh patch of soil toying with a rusted shovel on the floor. To an outsider he would look like a ghost, pale and still, and somewhere where he definitely shouldn’t be. A breeze blew through the graveyard. It snapped James out of his trance. It was now or never and he needed to do this. With a manic desperation he started clawing the dirt with his hands, dirt getting trapped into his nails and soil flying everywhere behind him. It wasn’t fast enough, he needed her now. Dig faster, dig faster, dig faster- The shovel! Yes, the shovel! That would help him get to her faster. He twisted around, looking more animal than human as he snatched at the shovel and started digging even more frantically than before.
It felt like days later when her casket finally came into view. Mahogany etched with a perfect, elegant design. The most perfect part of it though, was her body waiting for him inside.
He threw the shovel aside and jumped into the hole he’d dug, landing right beside her coffin. He bent down, quickly lifting the head of the coffin. The door of the coffin landed against the wall of the hole with a dull thud. He didn’t even notice it, his joy at being back with her encompassed him. She was lying there. Hair spread around her head like a crown, hands folded gently on her stomach. He fell to his knees.
“Oh my love. I’ve missed you so much.” He hovered his hands around her face with care, not touching her in fear of ruining her perfection. Something cracked in his chest and the tears he couldn’t cry at her funeral started pouring down his face. He sobbed, a broken, heavy sound, and laying his head on her chest he wept. Wept for how young she was when she got taken from him. Wept at how unfair all this was. Wept for how stupid he was, how he couldn’t protect her in the moment she needed it most.
He doesn’t know how long he sat there, pouring everything he couldn’t say into his tears, but as he saw the sliver of the sun on the horizon he knew he had to go. With gentle hands he picked her up, pressing her close to his chest. With her close to him again he felt like he could finally breathe again.
He slowly and carefully climbed his way out of the hole, making sure to keep a grip on her. The sun was rising into the sky now, casting an orange glow over everything. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and started walking out of the graveyard, his wife safe in his arms.
He sat staring at her. The sun was high in the sky now but he had drawn the curtains, he didn’t want her to get hurt. He sat at his dinner table while she rested on the couch beside it. A set table was laid out in front of him, two different sized forks on one side, a knife and spoon on the other, right in the middle a plate lay. An empty tea cup was on his right.
Every second he spent staring at her doubt creeped into his mind. It all just felt so wrong. She wouldn’t have wanted this, she would have wanted him to continue on without him and find a way to be happy. She didn’t understand though that she was the reason he was happy. He was nothing before he met her and now that she was gone he was nothing again. Yes, he was sure this was the right thing to do, the only way to keep her safe. Keeping her with him was safe and the right thing to do.
He got up, imperceptibly slower than he usually would, and went to her. He gathered her in his arms and brought her to the table, gently laying her down on top. He left her there, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing a sharp bladed knife from a cabinet. He went to leave but stopped and reconsidered, turning on his heel he left the knife on the counter and grabbed a butcher’s knife from over him. Better safe than sorry, he didn’t know how hard human flesh was to cut.
He laid the knife gently on the table, moving to run his hands through her hair. “I will finally be able to keep you safe. Forever.” Bracing one hand against her collar and using the other to pick up the knife, he said a small prayer under his breath, of forgiveness or strength he did not know. He raised the knife above his head and a second later brought it down to her throat.
Her head rolled and fell off the table. Blood splattered everywhere, staining his face and coating the table. He bent down and kissed her scarlet throat. He walked down to the end of the table and pulled her so her knees were on the edge and her feet dangled off the side. Words of love and guilt, pain and hope, spilled from his lips like blood as he cut off her legs with the push and pull of the knife. Placing gentle kisses on her stomach he sawed off the rest of her legs and placed them on the couch.
He turned around to walk back to the dining table but his knees buckled underneath him as all he had done finally registered in his mind and he caught sight of her laying there, the light of his life and love of his heart, butchered and sawed up and bloody. Her face on the floor was looking him right in the eyes. God she was gorgeous. She was perfect no matter what but with red tainted fingers and pale skin she was Aphrodite herself. He sat there just admiring her until blood started to drip from the knife onto his pant leg. This shook him from his awe and he got up again to finish the job he had started. Kissing each of her fingers on the knuckle he softly cut her wrists off then moved to her shoulder and tore it off. Her torso was the only intact piece of her body now
He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and dropped the knife on the table. He moved calmly as he picked up her limbs and arranged them on the couch, from what he assumed was the easiest to eat (the ones that were the easiest to cut) and the toughest to eat (the hardest to cut). A slow grin started crawling its way onto his face. Finally, she was safe. She was with him and she was perfectly safe. Once he had her with him, right next to his heart she’d be the safest. With this thought he grabbed her forearm and brought her to his plate. He wiped away the blood with a flick of his hand and gently placed her down. His mirror reflected him with a mad glint in his eye but when he blinked it was gone. He sat down and said his grace.
“Lord God, Heavenly Father, bless us and these Thy gifts which we receive from Thy bountiful goodness, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
He picked up his fork and tucked a napkin into his shirt. He gave her one last kiss before using his knife to cut a chunk of flesh out of her arm.
His first thought when he tasted her was how perfect she was. Everything about her was perfect so of course she tasted perfect too. After that he couldn’t stop himself, she was perfect and he needed to keep her safe so he kept on eating. Finishing up her whole forearm he shot up and practically ran to pick up another piece of her. He tore into her with the twisted enthusiasm of a man believing he was doing something right. He kept on going with the same routine: finish a piece, stack the bones beside the couch, run to get another one, finish a piece, stack the bones beside the couch, run to get another one. He could feel himself getting full and almost jumped from joy at having her with him at last. Her flesh and his flesh, never apart.
The morning sun peeked through the closed curtains. He had just eaten her heart. Snapping toward the couch to continue on with his mission he stopped in his tracks. The couch was empty, there was none of her left. All that remained was old blood stains turning from deep red to brown. She was gone. Wasn’t that what he wanted? She was with him, that was the whole point of doing this. Yet his heart squeezed. She was safe, sure, but she wasn’t here anymore. He could never kiss her again or hold her or look in her eyes. He had washed her hair down the drain earlier and it hit him that he would never be able to touch it again.
She was gone.
It was like all the sunlight had left the apartment and the air was stolen along with it.
He didn’t remember the last few days of his life. After she was truly gone, both mind and body, he became someone else. He vaguely remembered a red stained mop, his house in ruins, police lights, so many police lights, flashing outside of his window. There was a feeling of cold metal on his wrists, he assumed he had been cuffed for a period of time. Blurred faces outside of a barred up window of disgust, disbelief and pain.
“You’re a monster!”
“She loved you!”
“What have you become?”
All their shouting meant nothing to him. He had done the right thing. He was sure of it. He didn’t regret a second of it.
He was kept overnight at the police station, nobody knew what to do. He didn’t murder his wife so he couldn’t be charged for homicide but he had done something almost just as worse. The policemen talked in hushed whispers outside his cell about him. James Whitefield, the soft-spoken, hard-working husband who turned into a madman from grief.
It was decided he would stay overnight at the station, so they could keep an eye on him, and the consequences of his actions would be decided the following day in court.
The last of the policemen filed out of the building, eager to be away from James’s stare. He had spent the better of the last hour just staring at the policemen. Spending his time analyzing one, then barely moving his head to find someone new to stare at, this same cycle repeating itself a dozen times over. The sheriff opted to stay back, waiting for the night shift police to make their way over to the station before he left. He didn’t want to leave James alone for even a second.
Suddenly, after a whole evening of silence, he called out to the sheriff.
“May I borrow your letter opener?”
The Sheriff’s head snapped toward him and he was so surprised he couldn’t help but speak.
“Excuse me?”
“Your letter opener. The one right behind you there, with the silver handle.”
“Now is not the time for jokes James,” he spat. “Shut up and turn around.”
“I’m so sorry, I know I’m being a bit out of line but I really do need that letter opener. You see, killing myself is the only way to be back with my Lily so I was hoping it wouldn’t be too big of a hassle if you could pass me it and I could quickly get it done.”
James smiled softly and casually, as if they were just discussing the weather over a cup of tea. The Sheriff’s blood had drained out of his face and he quickly fell into a chair. James simply tilted his head in a curious manner.
“I-Well-” The Sheriff was quiet for a moment before his eyes became steely and he gave a nod as if reassuring himself about something. He leaned over and gingerly grabbed the knife, quickly sliding it over to the cell as if he’d been burned. James picked up the knife and brought it straight to his throat but before he could do anything the Sheriff spoke and stopped him.
“I’ll miss you James. I already do, I miss the James you were yesterday.”
“Liliana was with me yesterday, my friend, that is the difference.” The Sheriff sighed, as if he expected that answer.
“I hope you find some peace.”
“I guarantee you I will, but I thank you for your prayers. I am on the verge of something great my boy, I can feel it.”
“Then why haven’t you done it yet?” James hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected someone to actually ask him that. His voice was soft and almost sounded like he was going to cry when he spoke again.
“Lily is in heaven no doubt, I fear I am going to hell. But still, let me fill you in on a little secret. She wasn’t just everything to me, she still is everything to me. And I will do anything, no matter how much it taints my soul, to keep her safe and happy. There is one quote in particular that I love that I think describes it all very well. It goes something like this: “I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way – what bliss.”
With that he gave the Sheriff a final grin and slit his throat.